


Leaving the Battlefield Behind

by NeurotropicAgentX



Category: Dragon Ball
Genre: F/M, Getting Together, Hints of Saiyan Culture, Inadvisable Training, Injuries From the Same, Masochism, Some violent imagery, headcanons
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-07
Updated: 2018-11-07
Packaged: 2019-08-20 03:57:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,712
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16548416
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NeurotropicAgentX/pseuds/NeurotropicAgentX
Summary: ‘You didn’t kill me,’ he said flatly.She gaped at him. ‘Alright. And so you… what? Wanted to thank me by giving me a heart attack?’He frowned. ‘I was defeated. Beaten,’ he nearly spat the word, ‘and there you were looming over me and yelling and then… nothing. What do youwant?’ he snarled at her.She stared at him some more. At least she looked as wrong-footed as he felt right now. ‘For you not to die?’ she said, like it was aquestion, like he wasn’t sitting here, alive, a bruise throbbing over freshly healed ribs and renewed pain crawling through his body and down his spine.





	Leaving the Battlefield Behind

**Author's Note:**

> Many thanks to my editor for her invaluable assistance.

Vegeta’s muscles burned as the artificial gravity pressed down on him. Slowly, slowly his arms bent, every second of his descent utterly controlled. Sweat dripped off his forehead and splashed against the metal floor. It fell faster than it would at Earth’s normal gravity, making it feel like time had somehow sped up. It was too easy to believe that time was destabilised in this place where even he was struggling to train. 

Vegeta held himself just above the floor, for as long as his quivering arms could stand it, before pushing himself back up. The sound of his panting breath was loud, with only the mechanical whir of the chamber otherwise breaking the silence. His whole body ached like he’d taken a beating. Bruises bloomed beneath his skin where he’d banged hard against the floor or walls. The back of his throat tasted like blood. But Kakarot had done this. Somehow he’d pushed himself in this kind of gravity and trained and become… become…

A low growl escaped Vegeta’s throat as he forced himself back down. Super saiyan. The legendary super saiyan that had emerged and killed Freeza and avenged Planet Vegeta and it had been _some nothing third class_. There was a pounding in Vegeta’s skull and it could have been rage or a sign that he was about to pass out. He had to get stronger, had to prove he was better than Kakarot, better than Freeza. The sound that escaped Vegeta’s throat as he pushed himself up on shaking arms was embarrassingly weak. 

‘Vegeta!’ 

The sharp sound broke his concentration and he collapsed. At this gravity level the impact ran through his whole body. His bones ached. He groaned against the floor and tried to gather the will to force himself back up.

‘It’s been two days, you maniac! Ever heard of stopping for a meal break, or I don’t know, maybe some _sleep_?’ The voice echoed in the gravity chamber. 

His body ached and it would be an effort to even push himself to his knees, let alone his feet, and someone was yelling at him. A strange heat writhed in the pit of his stomach and he found himself just lying there, making no move to get up.

‘You’re not going kill yourself with one of my inventions. If I’d wanted to build a death ray, I would have just built a death ray. Turn it off, get out, and come and eat something for fuck’s sake!’

Vegeta’s breath hissed between his teeth in harsh pants. ‘Fine,’ he said when he’d collected himself enough to speak.

The voice was silent for a long moment. ‘Oh. Okay then. Well… hurry up.’

Vegeta pushed himself up and took slow steps toward the gravity chamber’s console. He flipped the controls back to Earth standard. It was immediately easier to stand and breathe and _think_. 

He stayed braced over the console for several heartbeats. The pain was a lot more insistent now that direct survival was less pressing. It washed through him like a tide, large enough to feel like a separate entity sharing the space beneath his skin. His body fought back against the pain, like it always did. His extremities tingled or went numb, the pain shifting from burning agony to a strange prickling sensation. With more slow steps he walked toward the exit. Hunger began gnawing at him. It was just another kind of pain to ignore, to push through. 

It was bright outside the chamber and he shielded his eyes with one hand. There was blood on his arm. He had no idea when he’d managed to split his skin, or even how. He stared at the seeping wound and the heat from earlier washed over him again. He shook it off and made his way toward the main building, automatically following the scent of food.

///

The humans were seated at the usual table. There was enough food that even two days worth of his appetite would probably be satisfied. He half-sat, half-collapsed into the empty chair. The older ones barely spared him a glance and continued their conversation. The third one was staring at him. 

‘You look awful,’ she said. ‘And are you… bleeding?’ She sounded about as surprised as he he’d been. It took _a lot_ of force to make an open wound without a sharp surface. He’d know. ‘How are you _bleeding_? You know what? Not important, but you stink, and an open wound is a biohazard. An _alien_ biohazard. If you want lunch you need to clean up,’ she snapped and got to her feet. 

He looked up at her, the pain from his arm felt like it was buzzing. Various bruises throbbed in time with his pulse. He hurt. And she was looking down at him, scowling, demanding. _Threat_. The word echoed in his head, but it wasn’t fear that coiled through him in response. He bared his teeth at her as the wound-pain faded back and the hunger-pain took its place. A flash of… not quite fear, in her eyes, this time. The feeling in the pit of his stomach coiled tighter still. He stood, pleased that he could do it without wavering. She didn’t take a step back. ‘Fine,’ he said.

He followed her toward the cleansing facilities without another word. When they arrived, she got a box out from one of the cupboards and laid it on the bench. ‘You probably know more about field medicine than I do. Everything’s sterile. That’s the disinfectant, bandages, scissors, needle and thread – I hope you don’t need that – painkillers, and saline.’ She pointed to the various bits of her primitive treatments. ‘Wash up first, obviously. I’ll leave some fresh clothes by the door.’

He nodded. She left.

He stripped off his armour and let it thud against the floor. He’d grown to like the water showers in this place. They weren’t as efficient as what he was used to on ships, but they felt pleasant and didn’t aggravate wounds the way proper decontaminations did.

When he was done, he flushed out the wound on his arm with saline, disinfected and bandaged it. There were soft civilian clothes outside the door, as promised. They offered no protection whatsoever, but they were clean and it wasn’t as if he needed armour here on this planet. He was the strongest power in this sector, and maybe in the whole galaxy, with Kakarot and Freeza both dead.

The hunger had been gradually building as he dressed, shifting from pain to something closer to nausea. He went back downstairs and took a seat at the table before piling his plate with food. The woman watched him as he ate. He scowled and drew his plate in closer, hunching over it slightly. 

Her lip quirked up into a wry smile. ‘Relax, I invited you in for lunch, remember? I don’t know what you think I’m going to do.’ 

His scowl deepened. There wasn’t anything she _could_ do. He _knew_ that. And still his shoulderblades itched like there were enemies at his back and he silently wished he’d put his armour back on. 

///

Vegeta was almost sure his power level was higher than when Kakarot had achieved the super saiyan form, but there was no… no transformative spark, no _change_. He was missing something. But not for long. Soon. The chamber made an ominous groaning noise, but Vegeta tuned it out. It finally felt like he was getting somewhere. His vision was swimming and sweat poured off his body, but certainty burned inside him. His body barely even hurt. He could keep up this level of training intensity for hours yet. Maybe this was what Kakarot had felt before he’d broken through to that pure golden power. 

There was another squeal of tortured metal. The intercom was making noise too, now. That voice was shouting at him again, but he didn’t listen, couldn’t afford distractions. He was close, he _had_ to be. A rumble shuddered through the room in way that Vegeta felt in his bones. His lips peeled back from his teeth in a feral smile. Maybe this was it, the moment where he changed, where he _became…_

There was a roar, intense light, heat. Even at his reactions speeds, Vegeta barely had enough time to realise what was happening. It wasn’t pain that made him scream, but the rage at having his destiny snatched away _again_. He’d been so _sure_.

///

Vegeta woke up to pain. Had he lost? Where was the battlefield? Who had defeated him? He cracked open an eye and winced. It was bright. He shut his eyes again.

‘Oh, so you’re awake now?’ a voice snapped at him.

Vegeta’s heart rate kicked up. Someone was here with him. Pain, defeat, but he was still alive. They were talking instead of finishing him off. The pain ripped through his chest and his arm when he tried to lever himself up and he collapsed back with a gasp. 

A cool hand pressed against the centre of his chest, holding him down. ‘Don’t try and get up, you idiot! Do you want to know which ribs you broke? Because there are better ways to find out than trial and error!’ There was a growl beneath the words now. A shudder ran through Vegeta’s body and his chin tilted back almost of its own volition. He thought he heard a muttered curse somewhere above him, but he couldn’t seem to hear properly past the thudding of his pulse in his ears. 

‘Damn it, Vegeta, I’m not having your death on my hands.’

This time the light was more bearable when he opened his eyes. It was the human woman, of course. Pinning him down with a gentle hand on his chest and the anger in her eyes. Of course it ended like this. He’d felt it before while lying prone in the gravity chamber with her hard, sharp voice cutting at him. She could kill him right now, while he couldn’t fight back, and she was choosing not to. She had just specifically _said_ that she didn’t want him dead. He was suddenly hungry for proof. Ignoring the ache in his arm, he reached out and wrapped a hand around her wrist. He could feel her bones beneath his fingers. Delicate, fragile, obviously, but strong enough that he was on his back and she was looming over him and… 

Her face went through an interesting series of expressions as he dragged her hand up his chest until he could press it against his throat. She could probably feel his rapid pulse beneath her fingers. The touch burned against his skin even though she ran colder than he did. Not a saiyan. Not really. But close. She looked so close and she was standing above him and he was hurting and weak.

‘Uh… what are you doing?’ she asked.

‘What are _you_ going to do?’ he rasped. 

She blinked down at him. ‘I mean, I was going to see if you needed more painkillers when you woke up, but you kind of seem like you’re loopy enough as it is.’ Her fingers were still at his throat and she didn’t squeeze, didn’t do anything but keep them there. 

‘I don’t need painkillers.’ His body was already working in overdrive. The pain he’d woken up to had faded into that post-battle warmth, but it mingled all too well with the rest of what he was feeling. It should have been discordant instead of welcome. He told himself it was only because he was at the end of his endurance, that he wouldn’t have liked it otherwise.

‘Good. Okay then. I’m… going to, going to… go add some extra failsafes to the gravity chamber. You…’ she trailed off. Her fingers twitched against his throat and Vegeta arched into the touch. This time he was sure he heard her curse softly. She drew her hand back, away from his throat, and Vegeta had no choice but to let her go. He bit back the whine that tried to escape his throat at the sudden loss.

He heard her swallow, caught a glimpse of her tongue as she wetted her lips. ‘I forget you’re an alien sometimes.’ Her voice was low. ‘That maybe you don’t respond the same way to a dose of even a milder painkiller. Try not to hate yourself in the morning, okay?’

Vegeta scowled, trying to work out what the hell she was talking about. He didn’t care about Earth things, but he also loathed getting caught wrong-footed by bizarre reactions. Why would he hate himself? ‘I’m not weak,’ he bit out. 

‘Yeah, I know,’ she said. ‘Strongest in the galaxy, right?’ That wry twist to her lips was back. He wanted to taste it.

‘Yes.’ If he hadn’t been worthy, he’d be dead right now. If she saw him as an enemy he’d be dead. He was alive, so why wasn’t she _doing_ anything with that? 

‘Well it looks like strong people tend to get themselves killed. Maybe you should try to buck the trend. Get some sleep.’

He nodded, the motion only making the room swim a little bit. She left. Vegeta stared at the door for a long time before sleep claimed him again.

///

Vegeta healed. It took much longer outside a healing tank. The woman, Bulma, still visited him on occasion, but there was a wariness to her now. She didn’t touch him again, but she also made no move to attack him and her inconsistent behaviour was _grating_. 

As soon as he was well enough he went back to training, which was uncomplicated. He couldn’t push himself as far as he wanted to until he was fully healed and for days he trained at gravity levels barely above earth-standard and only ended up with the most superficial wounds. When the pain coiled through him he found his thoughts returning again and again to the snap of Bulma’s voice and her hand pressing him down. These days the intercom in the gravity chamber stayed silent and that also grated. 

A week after he’d managed to pull himself out of bed, Vegeta stood over the chamber’s console and decided it was time to resume his high-G training. He was healed enough. So what if he ran out of breath quicker than he should have and couldn’t train for as long without ending up on his face? All the more reason to push harder. 

He turned the dial to 50G and hesitated. He’d been training at double that before the explosion. Cursing himself for a coward, he turned it all the way to 100G before flicking the switch. The gravity hit him like an opponent and he crashed against the console, one corner catching him right across his half-healed ribs on the way down. A pained noise tore from his throat and it was several moments before he could pull himself back to his feet.

He pressed a hand against his side and hissed at the pain. He would definitely bruise and the impact had been hard enough that his skin was probably already darkening beneath his armour. It was pure luck that he hadn’t re-broken his ribs. His head turned to face the intercom reflexively. It stayed silent. Vegeta straightened up and switched the gravity back to standard. He needed to fix this distraction or his training would suffer.

He strode out of the chamber and toward the main building. It was dark outside, but even without the outdoor lighting the moon and stars would have been more than enough to see by. For once he wasn’t following the scent of food and he circumvented the dining room. He was pretty sure the humans were gathered there and he didn’t want to face them right now. 

Instead he went upstairs to where the bedrooms were located. He didn’t think too hard about why he passed by his own door and ended up standing in Bulma’s room. Faint light from outside filtered through the open curtains, just enough for him to make out the placement of objects and furniture. It smelled like her here and the scent set his teeth on edge, but it wasn’t even a bad feeling, not _quite_. 

The bruise along his ribs was aching again. Vegeta pulled off his boots and sat cross-legged in the middle of the bed and decided to meditate. He’d mostly been focusing on his body during his training, rather than his ki. Kakarot had trained in high gravity and destroyed himself over and over again on the way to Namek. And he’d achieved the super saiyan form. Vegeta would do the same. It was hard to imagine that third class meditating, so it was probably a waste of time, but Vegeta found himself slipping easily into the old rhythm. His eyes slipped closed and he just focused on breathing.

Sudden light hit Vegeta, even through his closed eyes. ‘Fucking hell, Vegeta!’ yelled a voice. Bulma’s voice. ‘Have you just been sitting in my room in the dark for… how long?! When did you even get in? This is a new level of weird even for you. What the fuck!’

Vegeta opened his eyes, suppressing a wince at the brightness. Bulma was standing by the door. Her fists were planted on her hips and she was glaring at him. She looked glorious. ‘You didn’t kill me,’ he said flatly.

She gaped at him. ‘Alright. And so you… what? Wanted to thank me by giving me a heart attack?’

He frowned. ‘I was defeated. Beaten,’ he nearly spat the word, ‘and there you were looming over me and yelling and then… nothing. What do you _want_?’ he snarled at her.

She stared at him some more. At least she looked as wrong-footed as he felt right now. ‘For you not to die?’ she said, like it was a _question_ , like he wasn’t sitting here, alive, a bruise throbbing over freshly healed ribs and renewed pain crawling through his body, down his spine. 

‘You’ve made that abundantly clear!’ he retorted. ‘And you _won_ and you pushed me down and then you just. Left! Like your victory didn’t even matter!’

He could almost see the gears turning in her head. ‘Is this… I mean I said I’d feel responsible if you used one of my inventions to kill yourself,’ she said slowly, cautiously, ‘but you know that _you_ beat yourself up, right? Not me.’

He stared at her, open-mouthed, trying to find the right words. ‘I. Of course I know that! You... I’m the strongest being in the galaxy! No one could–’ He glared at her and bared his teeth. 

‘…Right. Is this some weird saiyan thing? Were you actually making a pass at me before, when you were recovering? I kind of assumed that was the painkillers talking,’ she stared him dead in the eye, ‘and putting my hand on your throat.’ 

Vegeta shivered. ‘I needed to know,’ he said, forcing the words out. ‘You kill an enemy or they just come back stronger the next time. To spare someone is…’ he shook his head. He’d never spared a defeated opponent in his life. Disappointingly, he’d never found one he deemed worthy. Though the blood on his hands was a different kind of satisfaction. 

Bulma had taken a step forward. Her eyes were alight with the full force of her curiosity. ‘That makes sense, I guess. For saiyans.’ She closed the distance between them until she reached the edge of her bed. Vegeta’s ribs ached again as his breaths got deeper, harsher. ‘So if I…?’ she said, almost like she was talking to herself. She reached out a hand toward him and Vegeta’s chin tilted up, just slightly. Her fingertips brushed his throat and he swayed forward where he sat.

‘Oh, this is all kinds of a bad idea,’ Bulma said breathlessly. Her hand stayed exactly where it was.

‘You made your choice when you let me live.’

‘That’s not how it works for humans,’ she said and drew closer until she was kneeling on the bed in front of him. With his head tipped slightly back like this, he could hold her eyes. ‘And… you know I can’t have, like, violent warrior-sex with you, right? I can’t actually beat you in a fight.’

Vegeta suppressed a flinch. ‘It’s not supposed to be violent, afterwards. Not when one party’s already injured. Only a deficient fighter who couldn’t tell the difference between combat and victory would want it to be violent. To hurt,’ he added in a guilty undertone. The hot throb of pain across his ribs seemed to redouble as he spoke. He still remembered the scornful things his people had said about saiyans who couldn’t leave the battlefield behind. It was important for everyone to be able to stop, to not want combat to bleed into places it didn’t belong.

Bulma nodded slowly, her lips pursed in thought. ‘Uh huh. So… do saiyans kiss?’

‘Yes,’ he said quickly. Kissing was good, kissing was safe. 

She leant in and pressed her lips against his. That touch was even more reassuring than her hand on his neck. She had chosen. It was second nature to kiss back, to curl a hand around her waist, to rest the other one against the back of her neck. He shoved away any thoughts of violence and kissed back gently, properly. 

Bulma’s hand left his throat and buried itself in his hair. She tugged hard, and while she definitely wasn’t strong enough to really _do_ anything, the shock of sensation ran over his scalp and down his spine. The noise she made against his lips was almost a growl and then she _bit_ him. Vegeta groaned and his hips stuttered forward. His ki was low and he wasn’t putting any effort into even his most basic defences. It couldn’t have been an attack, she hadn’t even broken skin, but the tiny spark of pain lanced through him like a blast. 

What was she doing? How did she _know_? And why the fuck was she humouring him? Bulma drew back, possibly because he’d frozen up and stopped kissing. ‘So are you going to take that armour off? That is an unfairly hot body you’re currently hiding.’ There was a glint of amusement and something hungrier in her eyes. 

He stared at her for a moment before starting to pull his armour off, his movements jerky and mechanical as he tried to process… this. Bulma’s gaze was blatantly appraising as he bared himself, but she drew in a sharp breath when she saw his ribs. 

‘What the hell did you do to yourself this time?’ she said, her hand coming up to prod gently at the fresh bruise. Vegeta meant to draw back from the touch, he _did_ , but instead he pressed forward. The pain went from dull to sharp in an instant and he couldn’t stop a groan escaping his throat. Of course _she_ drew back instantly. There wasn’t anything wrong with _her_. ‘What are you…?’

Vegeta growled, appalled at himself. ‘Sorry,’ he forced out. He shouldn’t have… this wasn’t _combat_.

‘Oh. You like a little pain, huh? I can’t say I’m entirely surprised,’ said Bulma. She sounded amused, but Vegeta couldn’t quite meet her eyes right now. Had she been able to _tell_ , even before now? ‘You’ll let me know if it’s too much, right? With your words. I’d prefer not to have you retaliate, or anything.’

Vegeta’s head snapped up and he gaped at her. ‘What?’

‘I’m honestly surprised I _can_ hurt you. I’ve seen you get thrown into a _mountain_ like it’s no big deal.’

Vegeta was still staring at her in shock, so he was completely unprepared when she put her hand back on the bruise on his ribs and pressed down. Pain and shock and a warmth that was far too close to pleasure. Vegeta couldn’t have pulled away for anything and the noise he made barely sounded saiyan. Bulma was smirking at him, but it wasn’t mocking, just smug, pleased. ‘So that hurts?’ she asked, drawing back.

Vegeta nodded and swallowed a couple of times to get control of his vocal cords again. It was more than just pain. This kind of intense sensation never happened outside of battle and every nerve in his body was buzzing on high alert. ‘Yes. I’m not defending myself. This isn’t a fight,’ he added, as much to remind himself as to remind her. ‘But you probably couldn’t do much to me if I wasn’t already injured. When you… _bit_ me it didn’t even really _hurt_ , just.’ He grunted.

‘You just liked it.’ Her smirk quirked up on one side of her mouth.

The change in expression drew his attention back to her lips. It was so much easier to throw himself back into the kiss and avoid all these questions. She didn’t seem bothered by what he’d told her and he wasn’t about to press his luck. His hands glided down her sides and he growled at the feeling of fabric, especially after he’d taken the bulk of his armour off. ‘Take your clothes off too,’ he demanded. 

‘Want to try that with a please?’ she asked flatly. 

‘No.’

She let out a burst of laughter and Vegeta started. ‘What?’

She waved a hand vaguely at him. ‘Oh nothing. I asked a question, you answered it.’

‘…Yes?’

She snorted again. ‘Let’s just say you’re lucky you’re cute.’ He frowned as he tried to parse that, but she started tugging her dress over her head, which was the important thing. There were undergarments beneath her dress, but not in any style he was used to seeing. They didn’t seem practical for under-armour wear, but then he’d never seen her in any kind of protective gear. She had to reach behind herself to remove the cloth band around her chest and Vegeta found himself staring at the flex of her arms and shoulders. The way she moved was lithe and just a touch too fluid. Reaching like that would be impossible if she had the musculature in her shoulders to support proper martial arts. 

Vegeta had grown up surrounded by aliens. They’d all sort of blurred into the background, eventually, with their strangeness losing its edge, but this was different. Maybe it was precisely because Bulma looked so much like a saiyan, especially from the front, that he found himself intrigued by her alien movements. He watched her unwrap the cloth from around her chest and caught her wrist after she dropped it off the edge of the bed.

He gently pressed his thumb into the soft place between the tendons. ‘You don’t move like a fighter,’ he said and ran his hand up her arm to the crook of her elbow. A fighter blocked with the outer edge of the arm. The underside was softer where the blood ran closer to the surface. It was an intimate place to touch. 

Her breathing hitched as he touched her. The sound was almost as gratifying as her growl. ‘Yeah, because I’m not one,’ she said. And maybe that was why she had no problem indulging him. Violence wasn’t something she needed to think about, compartmentalise. 

She glanced down at the last piece of clothing he was wearing around his hips. Colour rose in her cheeks and she was hesitant when she traced the edge of his undergarment. That was a fair reaction. Vegeta had seen soldiers bleed out from wounds at the place where thigh met torso. That wasn’t relevant here, it wasn’t _supposed_ to be, but who could ignore the potential? 

She tugged the cloth down and he shifted position to help. The air of the room felt cool against his heated skin. There was more hesitation on her part, but eventually she reached out and wrapped a hand around his cock. He was already half-hard from when she’d hurt him, and now he found himself pushing into her touch with a groan. It felt good. A simple uncomplicated pleasure compared to the conflicting feelings pain elicited in him. It was _almost_ exactly what he wanted. 

He reached out too, his focus slipping a little with the pleasure. His hand brushed against the last piece of flimsy cloth on her body. It was damp to the touch and he liked the noise she made in response. ‘You could just tear it off, if you like,’ she said, a strange edge to her voice. 

Vegeta’s mouth went dry. This was meant to be careful and as far away from the battlefield as possible. It wasn’t even _pain_ , but it would feel like violence. He was caught between how inappropriate the desire was and how much he wanted it. 

‘I’m letting you. Do it,’ Bulma snapped at him, her voice as harsh as it was over the comm in the gravity chamber. It decided him. He couldn’t keep the wild grin off his face as the cloth tore so easily beneath his hand. She jerked up against the back of his hand and gasped. Vegeta’s heart was pounding like it did in the middle of training.

‘Okay,’ she said between pants. ‘Okay. Lie back,’ she said, punctuating the order by pressing a hand flat against the centre of his chest. He swallowed, heat coiling tightly in the pit of his stomach as he remembered her pushing him down while the pain of his broken ribs had lanced through him. There wasn’t enough strength in her to make him, but he lay back anyway, wondering if she’d slide her hand lower and press down on his bruise again. Wondering if he could bring himself to _ask_ her for it.

She didn’t move like a fighter as she swung a leg over his hips, but the look in her eyes belonged on a battlefield and Vegeta _wanted_. She ground against his cock. The pressure was slick and hot and he grabbed at her hips reflexively, pushing back up against her. He growled when she lifted herself up on her knees and broke contact. 

‘Have some patience. You’ll get what you want.’ Her tone was low and her expression made the words sound like a threat. It made him growl louder.

She curled a hand around his cock, her grip just a little too tight. Her expression slid into concentration as she shifted above him and guided him into her body. The sensation of her surrounding him, squeezing him, forced a harsh noise from the back of his throat. Her hips were moving in sharp little jerks, and she was biting her lip. Vegeta wanted that, wanted her teeth in his lip, her nails against his skin. ‘More,’ he managed to snarl between his clenched teeth.

There was a glazed look on her face. ‘More. Yeah. More is good,’ she said and then blinked a couple of times, refocusing on him. ‘Yeah…’ she added in more a considering tone. Vegeta couldn’t read the look in her eyes, but a second later she reached out and raked her nails down his chest. He gave a hoarse shout and arched into her touch, his hips snapping up against her. She clenched around him in response and then her fingertips _dug_ into the bruise over his ribs. Sensation obliterated thought. It was so much, more intense than the pain of a hard fight, familiar and utterly alien all at once. There was no holding back the noises that spilled from his throat. He was bucking up into the possessive heat of her body, his hands desperately seeking purchase against her sweat-slick hips and thighs. 

One hand kept pressing down on his bruise, her fingertips shifting slightly to send fresh waves of pain and sensation ripping through him. Her other hand grazed his stomach and an image of her tearing across the vulnerable expanse of his belly flashed through his mind before he realised that she had moved to touch herself instead. The violence of the thought made him gasp and he jerked up against her, once, twice. He could feel her hand moving close to where she was taking him. Then she froze and clenched down even harder than she had before. Her full-throated cry hit his ears and the hand over his ribs tightened again. Vegeta’s vision hazed, his hips snapping up as he was overwhelmed by a feeling too intense for mere pleasure. 

It took him several long moments to pull himself together. The first thing he noticed was a light touch brushing down the centre of his chest, carefully avoiding his injuries. ‘You okay?’ Bulma asked.

Vegeta realised his eyes were squeezed shut and he opened them. She was still straddling him, but sitting back on his thighs. ‘Of course,’ he rasped derisively. He was the strongest being in the galaxy and this had been… this was…

‘Of course,’ she echoed, her lips quirking up into a small smile. She got off him and went through to the cleansing room attached to her bedroom. There was the sound of running water and after while she came back. ‘Here.’ She threw a damp towel at him and he snatched it out of the air reflexively. He wiped himself off and glanced at her. ‘Yeah, toss it back,’ she said. She caught it awkwardly. 

He’d pulled himself into a sitting position by the time she returned. She tilted her head to one side as she regarded him. ‘You can stay here tonight, if you like,’ she said just a little too casually. 

Vegeta grunted. He heard the words beneath her words. She would have no trouble falling asleep, even with someone like him sharing the bed. Could he say the same? She’d already passed up the opportunity to kill him. Was this any more dangerous than sleeping in her med bay? The heavy feeling in his limbs and the curling satisfaction in the pit of his guts ended up making the decision for him. He didn’t _want_ to get up and head back to his own room. 

Despite his fatigue, it took Vegeta a long time to fall asleep. His instincts were adamant that the human who’d begun to snore beside him was a threat, even if he couldn’t quite decide why.


End file.
